


Love Somebody

by profound-boning (farawaystardust)



Series: SPN A/B/O Bingo [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Angels, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Dean Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kidnapping, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Dean Winchester, POV Alternating, Pregnant Dean, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:14:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farawaystardust/pseuds/profound-boning
Summary: Castiel knows that something has gone terribly, horribly wrong the moment that Michael claims victory on behalf of Heaven.





	Love Somebody

**Author's Note:**

> sequel to The Point Is Probably Moot and I Get Excited
> 
> square filled: everyone’s an angel  
>  pairings: destiel  
>  word count: 3.4k  
>  tags: no warnings apply, a/b/o, alpha!cas, omega!dean, angels!au, demon uprising, kidnapping, pregnant!dean, threats of violence, angst with a happy ending 
> 
> rated M for threats of violence

Castiel knows that something has gone terribly, horribly wrong the moment that Michael claims victory on behalf of Heaven.

His Choir has been fighting alongside Raphael’s in one of the largest battles they’ve faced of late. The demons numbers are rising more quickly than Choirs on Earth like Gabriel’s can manage them, and they are getting more cunning. Coordinating with each other and with monsters that dislike angels, infiltrating places that angels once thought to be secure, and resorting to acts of torture and violence.

They’ve just annihilated the last creature standing and Michael is prepared to shout and proclaim God’s glory when Castiel feels a crushing, painful ache. His chest is constricted, his throat squeezed too tightly to breathe, a sudden twisting and wretched pain in his abdomen. He’s almost sure he’s been stabbed when Ishim speaks.

“Commander, you appear to be injured though you are not wounded. What is happening?”

“It’s”—he wheezes—“my grace? Perhaps? I—.” He chokes and coughs harshly. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Is it your bond, Castiel?” Benjamin touches his shoulder lightly and he flinches. “I am sorry. You know I mean no harm but I do think I have seen this before. Can you try to reach your bond?”

Castiel focuses on the soothing sound of their voice and tries to even out his breath. He is utterly horrified to realize that he cannot locate his mating bond. His connection with Dean is being smothered, and painfully so.

“I can’t,” he gasps, “it’s gone.” All of his brethren nearby appear shocked and worried.

“Go, Castiel.” Michael is suddenly there, a determined look on his face. “Take Benjamin with you and go to your nest. Find Dean and whatever is causing this pain.”

He nods, grateful, and without a backward glance, he flies. He flies faster than he would have believed possible, reaching his and Dean’s nest with great haste. Castiel’s status as commander of his garrison places their home in the heart of their realm.

Upon reaching the front door, Castiel feels a growing dread when he realizes it’s just barely ajar. He pushes on the dark wood.

“Dean?” he calls, still breathless with panic. “Dean, beloved, answer me.”

There is no response. He walks swiftly to the kitchen and then the bedroom and there is no sign of his omega anywhere.

“Castiel,” Benjamin calls to him from the front door. “There are marks here at the lock. Someone used a spell to open it. And…” they hesitate, deep brown eyes searching Castiel’s face. “It smells like sulfur, Commander. I think there were demons here.”

Devastated, Castiel cries out in anguish. How could this happen? His bond with Dean is being smothered by dark magic, a demonic curse. His mate has been kidnapped and—

“Benjamin, we need to go and tell the others right away.” Castiel’s heart is hammering wildly beneath his breastplate. “We need to get my family back.”

:     :     :     :     :

Dean wakes in a dungeon, dark and damp. His head aches from the blow he received in the fight at his nest, the one that knocked him unconscious and allowed those filthy demons to drag him away. He’d fought hard but his attackers fought dirty and now he is stuck in who knows where.

Heavy chains bind his legs, arms, and wings, but he can still move his hands to cup his stomach. At seven months pregnant, he’s barely showing, but he is dressed only in a white tunic and a short sleeveless vest from working in the Garden earlier. It’s the green one Cas got for him with delicate gold stitching on the hem; Cas said it reminded him of Dean’s eyes and he kissed Dean so sweetly when he put it on immediately.

Dean swallows against the onslaught of tears. It’s no use crying, what he needs to do is find out how to get out of here and back to his mate. Does Cas know he’s been taken? He reaches out to communicate with Cas through their bond, only to find that it’s been stifled. It hurts to try to fight the curse or whatever it is, a stabbing, tearing pain in his chest and abdomen that makes him afraid of hurting their fledgling.

Taking deep breaths, Dean looks around his cell again. There’s a tiny light in the far corner and the wall closest to his head is clearly a door. If he could just figure out a way to open it—

Suddenly, the door he’d been studying is opened from the outside and he is brought out into the light. He appears to be laying on a rolling slab that moves in and out of his cell, which is nothing more than a hole in the wall. The light in this room seems overly bright, but that’s likely due to the darkness of his cage.

“Well, well, well,” croons a particularly repulsive-looking demon. His eyes are an unnatural yellow color and his smile is even more revolting, more like a sneer. “If it isn’t the Commander’s bitch.”

“Excuse me?”

“Good job, boys, you nabbed the right one,” the demon continues without acknowledging Dean at all aside from looking him up and down in a way that makes Dean’s skin crawl. Another demon in the crowd nods his head at this one, who is clearly their leader. The second demon is even more horrifying to look at, nearly skeletal with eyes set deep in his skull and bony fingers clenched in two fists.

“It was our pleasure, sir.” The way that that demon looks at Dean makes him feel nauseated, and he tries hard not to picture this vile creature in his _home._ He sits up tall with as much dignity as he can when he’s chained up.

“Listen to me,” he warns. “When my Choir comes for you, it will be a fight like you’ve never seen. They’ll massacre you assholes, but they might just spare you if you let me go now.”

The yellow-eyed demon laughs at him. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. We didn’t lose any of our best today, they are all here, ready and waiting for your precious mate. But he’s so out of his mind with the curse we put on your bond that, well, I’m afraid he won’t be any good in battle at all. We’ll render Michael’s best warriors useless and then, when it’s just he and Castiel left standing, they’ll get to watch Alastair over there take you apart.” The sickening demon from before gives Dean a little wave. “I'm afraid Heaven’s armies won’t stand a chance after all of that.”

“You will never win,” Dean says, pulling at the cuffs around his wrists.

“Oh, but I already have.” He strokes one hand over Dean’s wing which fills him with nausea. “I’m Azazel, by the way.” Dean spits at his feet. “A feisty little bitch, isn’t he?” The crowd jeers. “Your mate will never find his way into my dungeon. As soon as he reaches Hell, we’re going to kill all of his little soldiers and drag him down here to watch you die. He will sit in that very same cell and rot for the rest of eternity, because”—he backhands Dean right across the face, a ring on his finger cutting Dean’s cheek—“I _hate_ angels.”

“Yeah, the feeling’s mutual.” Dean lifts his chin to look Azazel in the eye; he won’t let this piece of shit have the upper hand. “And Castiel is going to _destroy_ you.”

“He’d have to catch me first, Dean.” Azazel pats his cheek. “Lock him up.”

Locked away in his cage once more, Dean curls up into a ball and lets himself shed a few tears. He’s angry and he’s hurting and he’s fucking scared. What can he do to get back to his mate? He _must_ find a way to get home. Fuck knows Azazel and his cronies won’t let him live if they find out he’s pregnant. Dean rubs the small mound of his abdomen and thinks. Would it be better to wait and see if Cas does come? Or to make an attempt to escape on his own?

Thinking about his fierce and beautiful mate, Dean tries again to reach across their bond. There seems to be a wall in his mind surrounding his grace. His powers, his bond, it’s being stifled by the curse. Will he even be able to fly?

Days pass, or a least Dean _thinks_ they do. There aren’t exactly windows around his cage. It’s possible that time moves differently here. Dean just hopes he hasn’t been gone from Heaven for too long.

Azazel seems satisfied to keep him as a pet. He brings Dean out into a new cage in a great hall where Azazel entertains demons and other foul beasts, who jeer and mock Dean, tugging at his wings and spitting at him. It’s a larger cage so he is able to stretch out his aching wing joints, but he hates being on display like this.

There are always two sets of eyes on him. One is the watery leer from the torturer, Alastair. Dean can’t even think his name without gagging. The other is a different man, tall and dark-haired, White with dark eyes and a full beard. He’s clearly a demon, but he doesn’t taunt and jeer like the others do. He’s never come close and rattled or hit the bars of Dean’s cage. He just watches, and not with the hungry, searching looks some of the other demons send him. This demon seems content to just watch.

Another few days pass before Dean learns why.

It’s just after another one of Azazel’s parties. The unknown demon is closer than ever, hovering in the dungeon room while two fuckwits put Dean back in his tiny cage. He struggles, as always, flapping his big wings and flinging curses at anyone within hearing distance.

Suddenly, Azazel is there and he’s pushing Dean down onto the cold stone ground. The impact shocks him and Dean cries out, instinctively cradling his stomach which has, unfortunately, gotten larger in his time here.

“Oh,” Azazel croons, lips curling maliciously. “Oh, now that’s just delicious. You’ve gone and let yourself get knocked up there, little angel. That wasn’t wise. Now I’m _really_ going to let Alastair kill you. Both of you… Slowly.” Dean can’t bear to look at him; he’s shaking and swallowing against the tears. The cage door slams shut and he whimpers. He’s terrified now, no closer to finding an escape than he was when he’d woken up. And Castiel is still in danger.

It feels like several hours pass but Dean has no way of really knowing if that’s true. What he does know is that the next time the door of his cage is opened, the demon he’d noticed earlier is the one standing over him. He’s wearing the same outfit as before, a black suit and long coat, and he looks intimidating but not threatening.

Then Dean realizes that they are alone, no Azazel or Alastair in sight.

“What do you want?” he whispers.

The demon doesn’t respond right away, instead, he stares at Dean some more. Dean pulls himself as upright as he can manage, letting his wings flare out behind him. It’s posturing and they both know it; if the demon wanted to hurt Dean there’s no doubt that he could. Instead, the demon flicks his wrist and the shackles on Dean’s arms and legs fall away. They clatter against the stone ground and Dean gapes up at his rescuer.

“That was your first gift,” he intones. “Here is your second.” At this, the demon hands Dean a vial of lavender-colored liquid. Cautious, Dean examines the glass container to no avail. The demon continues to explain, “an antidote of my own design. For mending.”

“What?” Dean is totally nonplussed.

“Call it a… forced separation.” The demon nods at Dean. “It is a spell. And the stronger the mating bond is, the more terrible the effects of the smothering. You felt pain when you tried to reach through your bond, correct?” Dean doesn’t reply, still feeling very suspicious. “That pain is constant for your mate. They’re in agony, and it’s probably worse because you’re pregnant. So take the antidote before I ask for it back.”

 _Castiel._ Dean clutches the vial to his chest briefly before slipping it into the pocket of his tunic. “I don’t understand…”

“Yes, well, it’s a common form of torture. Now would you please _get up_ so I can show you the way out of here? Or would you rather stay?”

Dean all but leaps to his feet, his legs feeling a bit wobbly after so long without proper use. The demon turns on his heel and marches straight out of a large door. Dean follows close behind him, bare feet slapping lightly against the floor. He looks all around, half-convinced that Alastair is going to pop out from behind another door and kill him. But he and his rescuer reach a patio without meeting another soul (or whatever it is demons have). They’re standing in what must pass for ‘outdoors’ and Dean still can’t see anyone besides the two of them. The ground below them is black dirt, the sky a hazy gray cloud. Dean can see chains, can hear screaming, and he cannot see anything like stars or fresh air.

The demon speaks up. “This is Hell, angel, and the gate you’re using will pop you out somewhere in rural Minnesota. From there you’ll be able to find your own way home.”

“I don’t understand,” Dean repeats. “Who are you?”

He sighs. “I’m Crowley. And let’s just say that I wouldn’t wish such a fate on anyone.”

Dean looks at Crowley and he finally sees it. Crowley is speaking from experience; he’s wistful and is currently being weighed down by an old but still hurting wound. A festering one.

“What was your pup’s name?” Dean asks in a low voice.

Crowley’s mouth twists, his brow drops, and emotions flicker across his face more quickly than Dean can process them. Anger. Guilt. Sadness. Rage. Devastation. Conviction.

“Gavin,” he says. And then Crowley places one hand on Dean’s sternum and _pushes_ at Dean’s grace until he falls. He falls until the world turns right-side up and he keeps falling, landing with some force in a dusty cornfield. Dean looks around, blinking against the sun. A demon named Crowley saved him from Hell so that Dean could go and save his mate from something awful.

Without a moment to lose, Dean spreads his wings and flies. Up through the blue sky and past his own gates into the place he calls home. The particular entrance he’d used is located near the Central Garden, where he lands on his feet and breathes a deep sigh of relief.

“Dean!” He hears his name being called by many, and he is approached by Benjamin, one of the angels who serve in his mate’s garrison.

“Dean, you must go,” Benjamin says. They look nearly frantic, eyes wide with worry. Still, that’s a weird thing to say to someone who’s just returned from Hell. Dean’s confusion must show on his face because Benjamin shakes their head. “You must go to him, now,” Benjamin explains.

“Castiel?”

Benjamin nods. “He cannot leave your nest, he is too weak.”

“Too… weak?”

“Whatever the demons did to you to dampen your grace it is affecting Castiel, too. He… We fear he is near death.” Frozen, Dean stares at Benjamin. “It is a poison, it has snuffed out his connection to his grace and it is deteriorating his physical form. But now that you are back…”

Dean doesn’t stay to hear more. ‘A forced separation,’ Crowley had told him. ‘For mending.’ The vial feels heavy in his pocket as Dean flies faster than he ever has before.

He arrives on their doorstep and flings the door open carelessly, his heart pounding with fear. “Cas?” he calls out when his mate doesn’t seem to be in the rooms at the front of the house.

“Dean?” The angel named Mirabel appears in the hallway. “Dean, this way,” she explains, gesturing to their bedroom. Dean hastens to follow her, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the vial.

His beautiful alpha mate lies in their bed and he looks absolutely awful. His normally glossy wings are dull and Dean can see patches where feathers have fallen out. His tanned skin turned pale, his body seems smaller and thinner with sickness. Dean approaches his bedside and falls to his knees, his heart in his throat.

“Oh, Cas,” he says, gently running his free hand through Cas’s unkempt hair.

“D—Dean?” Cas chokes and coughs so forcefully it makes Dean’s own chest ache to hear it. “You—you’re alive?”

“Yeah, you’re not getting rid of me that easily, sweetheart,” Dean tries to laugh, blinking away the tears. “And now I’m going to make you well again.” He uncorks the antidote and cups Cas’s chin carefully so that his mouth hangs open, then he tilts his hand to administer it. Cas swallows without question and the moment he does, the pain hits.

Dean feels like he’s been punched in the face and when that lessens, it’s like his brain has been cleared. His grace tingles with renewed ability and Dean looks at his mate hopefully. Cas writhes against the sheets for a few long moments and Dean is terrified.

“No, no,” he whispers, rising and leaning over Cas to kiss his face. “Please, love, come back to me.”

It stops and the room is silent for a long, terrible moment before Cas begins to breathe. His blue eyes fly open, blazing with grace, and Dean weeps. He crawls over his mate’s body and lies curled against him, clutching his arms and kissing him over and over.

Cas is right there with him, returning kisses to his lips and holding Dean’s head in his hands.

“It really is you,” he finally says. “You came back.” Dean can only nod, tears streaming down his face. He buries his nose in Cas’s neck and takes deep, shuddering breaths. Only when he hears wing beats does he remember that they aren’t alone.

“Dean, Castiel,” Michael says from somewhere near the foot of the bed. “I am relieved and elated to see that you are both here. Castiel, tell me, how do you feel?”

“Recovered, brother. Thank you.” Cas continues rubbing his hands down Dean’s back, his cheek against Dean’s temple.

Charlotte waves her hand at their intertwined bodies and wings. “So was cuddling part of the cure, or?”

“A potion,” Mirabel speaks up. “Dean had medicine of some kind.” Dean raises his head to nod in acknowledgment.

“What was it, Dean? How did you escape? And you brought a cure? What—?”

“Enough questions, Samuel,” Michael says, smiling. “We should allow them to rest.” Samuel nods and looks at Dean some more, his wings fluttering with joy. Charlotte and Benjamin also look very happy, the grace humming in the room is calm and grateful. “Tomorrow,” Michael continues, “we will hold a conference. There, Dean may share the information that he has with us all. But for now, I think it is necessary to rest and recuperate.”

One by one, Dean’s and Cas’s brethren raise their hand in a blessing before taking flight, leaving the couple alone in their home once more.

Dean realizes that Cas might feel too weak to move, so he readjusts their bodies to lay nose to nose, wings and other limbs tangled, sharing breath.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Cas whispers, kissing Dean’s nose and cheek.

“I’d never leave you,” Dean promises, squeezing Cas’s fingers. “Never. The only thing I could do was think about how to escape and get home.”

Cas rubs his hands over Dean’s belly and tears fall from his eyes. “I’m so glad that you are alive. With my grace failing and my body so stricken, we were sure that you had died and that somehow it was poisoning me through our bond. I was so heartbroken.”

Dean hushes him. “I had no idea what was happening to you, Cas, I had no idea how much time was passing. But we’re together now and I don’t want us to be sad anymore. Just hold me and your fledgling, little alpha, and then we’ll be able to sleep.”

Tomorrow he can explain the torment and the threats. Tomorrow he can honor Crowley’s kindness. Tonight he only wants to bask in the love of their bond and the happiness of their home.

**Author's Note:**

> [on tumblr](http://profound-boning.tumblr.com/post/168097675279/)


End file.
